


No Longer Persephone

by magikfanfic



Category: New Mutants
Genre: Gen, hints of Illyana and Berto relationship but not really, set during the early days of the first run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9516947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magikfanfic/pseuds/magikfanfic
Summary: Illyana used to spend Christmas in a small wooden house in the middle of miles of snow as far as the eye could see. Her world was white. White and bright and contained within a pane of glass to peer out of while her mother cooked on their small fire. Her father would stride around outside splitting logs for firewood and then bustle back in with his arms full and a smile on his face. Then he'd perch her on his knee while lighting up his pipe and tell her Russian folk stories while the snow fell outside. Illyana was never cold. Not even in the midst of all that snow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanderlustlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustlover/gifts).



> Don't mind me. I'm just going through my Livejournal and moving fanfic that was originally there over here so other people might be able to enjoy it.

Illyana used to spend Christmas in a small wooden house in the middle of miles of snow as far as the eye could see. Her world was white. White and bright and contained within a pane of glass to peer out of while her mother cooked on their small fire. Her father would stride around outside splitting logs for firewood and then bustle back in with his arms full and a smile on his face. Then he'd perch her on his knee while lighting up his pipe and tell her Russian folk stories while the snow fell outside. Illyana was never cold. Not even in the midst of all that snow. 

Belasco tried to teach her a lesson in Limbo when he banished her to Ororo's garden during an ungodly winter. She was dressed in scanty animal skins with no heat and little more protection than one tall tree which she sucked the life out of in order to try and move past the seed of darkness nibbling at her core. Belasco unleashed artic winds on her, and Illyana never gave up. The cold was something that was a part of her. It had always belonged to her, and it always would. 

And even when she thought her limbs must surely freeze up and stop moving because of the winds, she kept going. She pulled power from the tree to ease her frostbitten fingers. She pulled warmth and love from the tree as well as from the remaining pure traces of her fragile heart. Illyana had been raised in the Siberian wasteland. She knew what to do in a snow storm. Her brother had taught her.

Her brother had taught her many things. And she had seen the way he had survived by turning his skin to metal. But Illyana didn't have metal skin or blue fur or the ability to create lightning. Illyana wasn't like Piotr and his friends. So she had turned her will to metal and, as the days of ice continued, even her heart. 

But the ice stopped. The winter stopped. And Illyana turned her attention away from creating life and to making a weapon as sharp and hard as her heart and will had become. It was a sword spun from her life essence and infused with ice. It was vengeance with a very real point. And she used it to show the master of the land that she was no longer a human child wasting away in the cold. 

But she lost something precious in that tower battling the demon-man down. The realization that she was just as much darkness as light, that the battle within her own soul was as calamitous as the ruling of Limbo. Yet she was still a child very much in love with the idea of going home. 

She left one prison for another.

***

In retrospect, Roberto DaCosta really had everything he could ever hope to want. Except snow for Christmas. Of course as a child growing up in Brazil he never even missed it. Too much time spent outside playing football in the scorching heat and convincing girls to go swimming with him as the bright sun stretched lazily over the horizon. He just never had the opportunity to miss the fact that winter is cold. There's a whole myth ecosystem that revolves around the concept of winter, the morning and the quietness of it.

He never understood that the earth needs to rest for a while. Never comprehended the tale of the taken child and the grieving mother until he came to Xavier's and lived in a world ripe with snow and crisp air. It makes a lot of sense now especially when he pictures Illyana as Persephone locked beneath the earth by a devil, forced to eat his fruit and stay by his side for months out of the year. It makes a lot of sense when you take the time to realize the magnitude of such a victimization. And that's something he's really never given a thought to before. That Illyana's story is a tragedy and that she was forced into becoming a demon sorceress. She didn't choose it. Her sin was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Their difference is the way they both behaved in the situation. Persephone mourned as much as her mother and ate the seeds naively. Illyana was forced to eat her seeds and then rebelled against the man who had held her captive. In the myth, Persephone has to be rescued. Roberto cannot imagine Illyana just sitting back and waiting for a savior to come for her. Instead she forged a sword and took back her freedom.

Roberto saves damsels in distress. He's not used to one who'll look him in the face and yell right back at him. Dani and Illyana both do that to him, but it's Illyana and her ice blue eyes that capture most of his attention. He wonders what's she hiding. 

***

It's Christmas in New York, and it snows. The snow blankets the ground with a thick coat of white. Most of the students stay inside, huddled by the fireplace, their heads bent over textbooks. It's a well deserved rest from all of the mutant activites that have been plaguing them lately. Illyana has never spent much time with homework. It's not because she doesn't understand it. The Professor made sure that she has a better than average comprehension of the English language. She still thinks in Russian, cries out in the familiar syllables during nightmares and lashes out with it in angry words as well. English is still a strange language to her. One that doesn't feel right on her tongue and teeth. The shape perplexes her sometimes, and she'll stand still forming her mouth and repeating the same word until it stops sounding so strange and makes sense. The Latin she learned in Limbo makes more sense to her than the English. It has a heavy feel that mirrors her native tongue.

No, Illyana's not stupid. She just doesn't understand the point of the classes and the homework. Information is useful, yes, and she'll glad read any of the books that Kitty leaves around their room. The idea of having it be coordinated, of everyone having to study the same things whether they like them or not is ludicrous to her. And she doesn't even know what to do with the learning. What do they use it for anyway? Nothing. They fight. Her brother fights. Kitty fights. The education boils down to nothing more than something to do between all the fighting.

So while the other students are in the study with their books writing their essays on the impact of the mutant gene on society, Illyana is on her bed working on Christmas presents. Her parents don't know that she's isn't still seven years old so their package of hand-knit socks many sizes too small and a silver link necklace that fits her ankle sits unused at the end of her bed. It doesn't matter. Limbo basically sapped her love for material possessions anyhow. But the thought touches her. The socks are in her favorite colors and the necklace is the kind of thing she was fawning over for months because it looked like the one Peter got Kitty. 

Their room is somewhat stark. Kitty has a few posters up on her side and, even though both Kitty, the Professor and her brother have reiterated the fact that Illyana can have her own room, Illyana makes due with a few of her brother's paintings and a handful of stuffed animals Moira bought for her during her stay on Muir Island and before the Limbo incident. The bookshelves on Kitty's side contain large, heavy texts on computers, physics, advanced calculus and a few volumes on chemistry which Illyana thumbs through occasionally. Chemistry is a lot like magic, and she still hasn't been able to mark the distinction that makes one so coveted and the other feared. Maybe it's because she can't show people the elements she uses just the end products. 

Before she left Siberia to spend some time with her brother, her mother had started to teach her to weave and knit. In Russia, they could only get their hands on muted colors for large projects. Her mother would make blankets in gray and slate blue with black and white for the trim. America offers Illyana a wealth of colors to choose from, and, even though her fingers are not as accustomed to the weaving as her mother's, she can still make simple patterns and the occasional flawless image with the threads. She's working on a small wall tapestry for Kitty. One done in bright purple and gold and rich blues when she hears the knock on the door.

She almost speaks in Russian. It takes a moment's effort to remember. "Yeah," she says instead, half an order and half a question. And she's still on her bed in front of the loom, fingers moving even though her attention is half diverted by the knock.

The door squeaks, but Illyana and Kitty rarely use doors so it doesn't matter much to them anyway. It's only when someone else opens it that they even notice. But the door squeaks open, and Roberto pops his head into the room. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" She refuses to be his Persephone. He told her that myth once while they were supposed to be studying for an exam and something about the light at the back of his eyes during the conversation made her realize that he was looking for her to play the part of the broken girl. Well, she didn't fight down a demon lord in order to have to play the part of a princess for a boy younger than her.

He strides in as confidently as you please and sits on the edge of Kitty's bed. If she was any other girl, Illyana would probably blush at the fact that her and Kitty's clothes, including underwear, are strewn haphazardly around the room. But Illyana has never bothered much with modesty. She'll just have to make sure that Kitty never finds out. "I was working on my paper but then Sam suggested a snowball fight. We didn't want to leave you out."

She smirks. "Did they dare you?"

"No."

"Why didn't Dani come?"

"Maybe because I offered. Because I was trying to be friendly, miena, but you don't seem interested in being friends."

She turns back to the loom and lets her fingers fly again. "I'm not interested in being friends with people who are scared of me."

Roberto watches her. He catches a glimpse of the loom over her shoulder. It's rich in color with geometrical patterns around the edges that almost look like interconnected stars of David. Small purple dragons roam in the uppermost corners, trickles of flame issuing from their tiny mouths. "That's amazing," he mutters low under his breath.

Illyana hears everything. "You should see what my mother can do. I'm nowhere near as good at it yet."

"Who is it for?"

"Kitty. It's a Hanukkah present provided she gets back in time for us to light any of the candles."

The thin fingers fly moving the threads in subtle patterns that he does not quite understand. A simple flower blooms forth in a shade of coral. "Can I watch?"

"What about the snowball fight?"

"There's always snow on the ground here."

She pauses for a second to look at him, and, for once, her eyes are not guarded. "You can stay if you like."

After a moment's consideration, Roberto sits besides her. Their knees touch. "Thanks." He watches her weave until the light from outside becomes dim, and then he turns on a lamp. They sit in silence while her hands move over the threads. She is no longer Persephone nor a demon sorceress. She is just Illyana, and her fingers paint pictures with string.


End file.
